Yeah man, mi a go kill him.
But then I hear Zara’s voice in my head, telling me to get someone else to do the killing. I sigh once more. Jah know. Ah… mi nuh affi dweet then. Mi a get him killed. Nah get weh.
.
I look up again.
Him still deh yah a chat up him mouth like him feel safe. Like him nuh know seh him dead already.
Mek him gwaan run him mouth man. Mek him see if a nuh one shot lick out him teeth before sundown.
Matter of fact, even if him shut up now, him fate seal. Him tell me ‘bout mi madda after him bad drive me?
Him sign him death sentence mon.
“Eva have mi strap enuh bwoy,” he says, like that’s supposed to scare me.
I raise a brow.
Him mad?
I study his face good. Mek sure mi remember it. “Ah,” I reply dryly, stepping behind the Mark X in the lane. Zara’s voice cuts through again. This time, through the phone.
“Nickoi, yuh a listen me?” I nod, eyes still locked on the license plate.
“Mi a listen yuh, man,” I murmur, slipping out my other phone. I snap the pic of the plate, then I send a message to Gutta and Genius to page him. They respond almost immediately.
I smirk and turn back to Zara like I wasn’t just planning a whole execution.
“Weh you did a seh, mami?”
47
Daze
“Chubble foot feet!” Pops exclaims, eyeing the paintball gun, and everybody bursts out laughing. It’s Thursday and we’re at DaCosta Farm. It had been closed for a while because of Corona, but we pulled a few strings and got the owner to open it just for us.
We didn’t force him, but let’s be real, there’s no way he could say no.
How could he? It’s Pops and the Don. We change into paintball armor and get straight into the game. It starts off smooth, then quickly turns intense.
We’re split into two teams, my squad wears blue, Pops’s in red. Both teams made up of Outlaws and Unruly campers.
I drop by a tire and crawl on my stomach before flipping over, resting my back against the stacked tires, stretching my legs out on the grass. When I’m sure it’s clear, I start eating my shrimp.
Rick crawls over laughing, leaning beside me on the tires.
“Cyaa believe eh man a stuff him mouth inna the middle a the war.”
“Try know,” I reply, chewing.
“Food fi nyam still. A wah fi tap eat?” he says and I nod, tossing a shrimp in my mouth. He starts firing again while I chew, enjoying the breeze.
I cough, pepper nearly kill me. I reach for the water but Rick grabs the shrimp bag and throws three in his mouth at once.
“Yuh craven enuh, dawg.” I shake my head, sip some water, then cork the bottle and set it down.
I load more paintballs into my gun as Rick peeps out.
